


You're so golden

by heavensfallingaroundus



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: M/M, NUFF SAID, Taron Egerton just went out and won us a fucking Globe, oh yes also dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfallingaroundus/pseuds/heavensfallingaroundus
Summary: Taron Egerton, Golden Globe winner.Howgooddoes that even sound?
Relationships: Taron Egerton/Richard Madden
Comments: 32
Kudos: 59





	You're so golden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [supposeforthesakeof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/supposeforthesakeof/gifts), [drinkingstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkingstars/gifts), [phoenix_rose (phoenix_ascended)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_ascended/gifts).



> So, last night Taron won us a Globe.  
> No-one knows where Richard was, while that was happening, so I decided to try and fix it.  
> Just, you know, getting this out of my system.
> 
> To my three most relentless fandom friends, with whom I've spent approximately five hours screaming into the wee hours of the morning, and who have asked for it—this one's for you.  
> Thank you.  
> You keep me sane.
> 
> Also, thank you Harry Styles for writing a song about Babey.

Taron’s phone starts buzzing in his jacket pocket right after his eyes flick away from the eye of the camera that just recorded him walking off stage.

It’s a rhythmic, increasingly more intense vibration that some genius probably originally devised to be a silent alarm. It’s like a climax, really—which is maybe why Taron decided to associate it with one particular contact in his phone.

He eyes one of his chaperones, makes a phone sign with his right hand next to his ear, _quick phone call?_ He receives an OK sign, and he sighs in relief as he reaches for his phone.

“’ello, y’keen bastard.”

“Told you I’d call as soon as results were in, didn’t I? Fucking _hell_ , Duckie.”

“I _know_ , right?”

“Told ye—should’a written a speech,” Richard says, chuckling. He’s breathy. He sounds ecstatic.

“Yes, yes, I really should ‘ave. You win this one, then, Madden.”

“Nah, sweetheart—I believe _you_ just won it. Fuck, T. I’m so _fucking_ proud of you.”

“Oh, Dickie,” he replies, clutching the heavy statuette to his chest and feeling himself well up once again.

“I love you, Taron. I love you I love you I _love_ you,” Richard’s brogue comes in again, a little shakier this time.

Yeah, alright. No point in trying to contain himself anymore, then, is there? He was already half-blubbering on a worldwide broadcast, just ten seconds ago—he can definitely afford to break down behind the scenes.

A few tears roll down his cheeks and he turns to face the dark wall next to him to conceal them from any onlookers.

“I love you too,” he whispers. _Hiraeth_ hits him square in the chest. “So _goddamn_ much.”

_I wish you were here. I wish I could be in your arms. I wish I could have kissed you in front of everyone._

“It’s bloody ridiculous that we have to do this over the phone. What am I even doing, still stuck on this stupid island, when I really should be kissing you senseless, right now.”

“Oh, look at you, reading my mind,” Taron replies, feeling himself beam uncontrollably once again.

He then contemplates just how far Richard is, at the moment, and he silently groans in frustration. Looks down at his shoes. A teardrop falls from his face and hits the shiny leather Armani dress shoes he’s been wearing all night.

“Can you maybe read any further?” he asks, still not resisting the urge to be cheeky.

“I can, as it happens. I’m assuming both Brosnan boys are currently looking at you?”

Taron turns his head slightly. Paris and Dylan are huddled up a few feet away, smiling broadly at him, waiting. He grins back at them, innocently.

“Uh-huh,” he confirms, already feeling himself blush slightly.

“I should probably be pinning you down, sucking you off, fingering you open for hours, and making you come three times before I even get inside you, then, shouldn’t I?” Richard says, smoothly.

Taron’s breath catches in his throat for a couple of seconds. He releases it in a wet chuckle, as yearning and lust mix with incredulousness and pure, uncorrupted joy.

“Precisely,” he confirms, biting down hard on his lip. He raises the hand holding the statuette, and nervously scratches the back of his head with two fingers.

“Taron Egerton, _Golden Globe winner_ ,” Richard says. The last three words just seem to roll off his tongue so effortlessly, and his brogue is thick like melted dark chocolate, sumptuous like an aged Highlands single malt. “How _good_ does that even sound? God, the things I’m gunnae do to you, love.”

Taron’s heartbeat quickens a tad.

He closes his eyes. It barely takes half a second to picture _everything_ Richard’s talking about.

“Call again later, and you can tell me all about ‘em?”

“Sure thing. I love you, baby,” Richard says again. “Bloody well done.”

“Thank you. I still can’t believe it. I really didn’t think it was going to be me.”

“Oh, love,” Richard retorts, and Taron hears him smiling down the phone. “Glad the world thought otherwise and decided to agree with me when I say you’re _golden_. Not that we needed proof, anyways, eh? But still, y’know…”

“…the mantlepiece will finally be symmetrical.”

“You read minds, too, then?”

“Magic, what one fairly small but extremely heavy statuette can do to a man.”

“Welcome to the club, _mo chrìdhe_ ,” Richard says, laughing quietly. “Now, enough of this. Go take some pictures. Let people tell you how pretty y’are. Get champagne drunk. Have a great fucking time, my love. You deserve it all.”

“I will. I love you, Dickie.”

“I love you too. Talk later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Golden Boy.”

“Promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've been telling y'all for months—he's _golden_.  
> I'm so proud.  
> *raises glass* _Slainte mhath_. 
> 
> Love,  
> C xx


End file.
